2 am
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Another bit of Hotch/Emily fluff. It's 2 am. What is Hotch thinking?


**Author's Note: Just a little more Hotch and Emily fluff because I couldn't resist. Anybody out there have a prompt list for me? I'd be eternally grateful and so would my muse. At any rate, let me know what you guys think. I love hearing from each one of you. Thank you for reading, guys!**

**2 am**

Sighing as he watched her dark head bent over the scarred wooden table, the ends of her long tresses caressing the surface, he reached a unilateral decision. No one should look that damn good at two in the morning. It just shouldn't be possible.

They'd been working for sixteen straight hours, the race to find their unsub before he could kill the little boy he held hostage a driving force for all of them. And they'd accomplished their collective goal, apprehending the psychopath before he could take one more innocent child's life. It was a win. For all of them.

But still, victory or not, there was no way she should look that good. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and a faint smile turning her berry lips up faintly. He knew some of it was the buzz of the adrenaline rush. But even that hadn't slowed his other team members down when he'd sent everybody to bed an hour ago. He'd been more than willing to forego a few more hours sleep if it meant the rest of the team could grab just a few hours shuteye after the grueling case they'd all worked, their determination confounding even the local LEOs.

Walking behind her chair, Hotch stopped just to stare down at her. Her diligence astounded him at times. Always determined, Emily Prentiss took stubbornness to a whole new level. She'd been like this from the beginning, always doggedly trying to prove herself. Sometimes he suspected that it wasn't just him she wanted to assure of her ability, but herself as well.

"You know," he said quietly from behind her, his voice barely loud enough for her ears alone. "I broke the team an hour ago," he reminded her.

"And yet," she smiled over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his in a bare glance as she charged, her voice unwavering, "You're still here."

"I'm the boss," he returned easily, the words flowing without thought. "I get to make that call."

"And I'm a grownup. I think I can determine my own bedtime by now, don't you?" she asked cheekily, rolling her shoulders in what he would have sworn was a deliberately sensuous motion.

Sighing, Hotch eased into the chair beside her, offering her a sidelong glance as she went back to making notes in her file. "How is it even possible that you can sound chipper at two in the morning?" he asked tiredly as he tried to quell the urge to run his fingers through what he knew were silky locks.

"We won," she said without looking up or pausing in her precise note making, her voice like aged whiskey, smooth and mellow.

"We did," he agreed, watching the elegant line of her face tilt as she eyed the paper in front of her, her eyebrow slightly arched as if she debated the wisdom of her word choice.

"You know that report will be there in the morning," Hotch murmured, shifting impatiently in the chair beside her.

"It will be," Emily nodded. "But my memory won't be as fresh," she continued with a shrug, her eyes glued to that infernal paper.

"My memory is like a steel trap. I'll remind you, Prentiss. Let's call it a night," Hotch suggested in a voice that clearly said that his order wasn't a mere request anymore.

Turning to meet Aaron Hotchner's dark gaze, Emily's eyes danced with mischief. "You know, any other night, my peppiness would impress you. In fact," she said, her voice soft as she leaned closer, though not so close as to attract attention from the few uniformed officers still working in the area, "I think that it's accurate to say you find it rather invigorating."

"That's a fair assessment," Hotch murmured, inclining his head slightly, dark hair almost touching dark hair. "Of course, most nights, we're in our own bed and I'm not facing the prospect of a lumpy, lonely hotel mattress at two in the morning."

"Play your cards right, Agent Hotchner, and I'll make sure it's three before you get to sleep. And you won't notice the lumpy mattress, I swear," Emily winked, the metal legs of her chair scraping the floor as she stood, her long, lean body unfolding perfectly.

And watching her walk out the precinct door, he grinned, his feet positioned perfectly to follow. Maybe 2 am wasn't so bad, after all.

_**finis**_


End file.
